Hectocapitus Scene
Umbran the Gehennian, the triumphant Seven of Hectocapitus, was thoroughly exhausted. Almost, but not quite, exhausted enough to ignore the tormented faces grafted onto the Wall of Screams. He spared a glance for Death’s Shadow, who walked with a tired slump behind him. Standing between seared walls of flesh, her scales burnt and shattered from Irihil particle beams, she looked strangely beautiful. She gave him a rare, triumphant smile. Umbran smiled back, showing fangs, and returned his attention to the path in front of him. They had walked seventeen of the twenty miles from Pandaemonium Central to The Tower. Rising on either side of the wide road was the Wall of Screams--the abode of Hectocapitus’ least favored individuals. The wall was a mutilated mess of severed heads, all fully conscious and grafted to nutrient tubes. Millions of faces, Angeli, Typhon, and some Daemon, lining the path to The Tower. It was impossible to meet with Hectocapitus without first listening to the screams of those whose meetings had gone less than favorably. As one of the Seven, Umbran probably didn’t have to worry. But as he passed the face of a Gehennian traitor, crying for death as he walked by, he felt an inevitable twinge of concern. After all… they hadn’t exactly asked for permission before leaving the Daemoniverse. The path ended with a thick gate built from shifting Cubi. A pair of armored guards nodded to the Seven as they approached, stepping aside as the Cubi parted to allow entrance. The Tower, as would be expected, was not an inviting abode. It was entirely forged from Cubi, which tended to squirm around a lot. Umbran had never been able to memorize a floorplan, because there was no floorplan. Rooms and areas within The Tower existed only so long as they were useful to Hectocapitus. And by extension, so did anyone who entered The Tower. A silvery platform of Cubi assembled in front of the two Gehennians, glittering arrows pointing upwards. Though he had wings, Umbran stepped onto the elevator and waited patiently for it to lift. Death’s Shadow did the same--it was a small, but noticeable, sign of respect towards the master of the house. And they lifted. Slowly, because Cubi had difficulty supporting the weight of such large Daemons. They stood side by side as Hectocapitus’ chamber came into view. The chamber was the only part of The Tower that didn’t change from day to day. It was painted black and was perfectly square, a quiet hearth blazing in the center despite Inferno’s natural heat. The walls were concealed by thick bookshelves, and a plain desk stood in a corner. It was itself indistinguishable from any other quiet study in the Multiverse. Hectocapitus himself sat, as he often did, at The Tower’s only window. His enormous back, plated with his black, invincible armor, was faced to them. He spared no glance for his two lieutenants, and continued staring through the porthole and into the city. Umbran fidgeted nervously, as did Death’s Shadow. Hectocapitus was in a particularly introspective mood. When the lord of all Daemons was introspective, it meant death--and precisely whose death was immaterial. Hectocapitus continued his silent survey of his planet, before finally raising a claw and tapping it against the Cubi windowsill. The light ringing sound reverberated through The Tower, attracting a number of lesser Daemons. The brought out another desk, carrying an enormous sheet of parchment. A Praetus guard motioned for the two Seven to examine it. They approached. It was a diagram of the Multiverse. A map. The Daemoniverse was depicted as a misty red bubble near the center of the sheet, floating beside the much larger universe of Emenata. The edges of the map showed the still-larger, far more mysterious universes known to Daemon kind: odd geometric patterns marked the universes of Machinus, Mortum, Vesania, Paradise and Empyrean. The diagram was extraordinarily complex, labeled with the names of countless empires and constructs across the universes. The diagram was beautiful. “It’s a big damn multiverse,” Hectocapitus said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. Umbran looked up sharply, confused. Death’s Shadow raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Master?” she asked carefully. “Are we here to be reprimanded?” At this, Hectocapitus let out a silent, mirthless chuckle, still facing away from them. “Reprimand? Daughter, you have pleased me greatly. As have you, Umbran. I have never been so pleased to have birthed you as members of my Seven.” The pair gave a small sigh of relief. “Your praise is all we seek,” Death’s Shadow groveled. Umbran bowed his head. Hectocapitus turned to them, his face a passive mask of emotion. Fortunately, he didn’t seem angry. More… concerned. “Your actions have reminded me of our goal,” Hectocapitus rumbled, his bright red eyes scanning his children. “Each century, I promise you that we will finally defeat our foes. I promise you that we will at long last break our enemies and leave this universe, seeking new worlds for conquest. Each century, I lie.” His eyes drifted to the map lying on the table. “I have told this lie for millennia. For tens of thousands of millennia. For nearly four million years. But no more.” The massive Gehennian moved aside from the window, allowing Umbran and Death’s Shadow to observe what their father had been so intent in watching. Out over the baked rocks of Inferno, towards the center of the city, the Armageddon was being armed. A team of Titans, towering over the rest of the city, were fixing a gargantuan piece of artillery to the starboard side of the ship. The weapon seemed almost ridiculously huge, hundreds of meters long. It was the largest and most powerful weapon actively used in the Daemoniverse. Hectocapitus had traditionally called it the Bad Neighbour. It was only fixed to a ship when Hectocapitus himself was on board. Umbran watched the armament with growing concern. What new threat was deadly enough to warrant Hectocapitus’ own cannon? What threat elicited enough fear for the Bad Neighbour, which cracked planetary crusts like eggshells? Death’s Shadow again served as the voice for the pair’s concerns. “Master, if I may respectfully ask, where will you be heading? It has been quite some time since you’ve departed from home.” Hectocapitus smiled, which was not an encouraging sight. “Bloodburn and Ravana outlined a plan of attack in your absence. We intend to put an end to our enemies in the Daemoniverse. The Angeli and the Typhons will be exterminated, left naught but blood and ashes. Crushed by the might of the Daemons.” Umbran nodded his head, although he was more than a little weary of such a bold claim. “Yes, Master. Shall we be accompanying you on this campaign?” “No,” replied the lord of all Daemons. “I think not. I believe the two of you have proven to me that there are far more valuable uses for your strength.” Umbran and Death’s Shadow watched their father cautiously as he strode across the room, finding a long sheet of paper. He placed it directly in Umbran’s paw. “The pair of you are two of my greatest lieutenants,” Hectocapitus said confidently. “While you have both been guilty of indiscretions, I believe I can trust you with this most important of tasks.” Umbran looked over the paper as Death’s Shadow received her own copy. It was a list. A list of names, marked in a diagram similar to the map on the table. A list of all the leaders of practically every organization in the Multiverse. And each entry was annotated with a suggested plan of assassination. Death’s Shadow looked over her list with an alarmed look. “Master,” she pleaded, “is this a punishment? The names here… most of these will prove impossible to assassinate.” Umbran traced his claw over the list, making a note of all the targets. His former mate had a point--while some would be simple matters, others would be exceptionally difficult. A large quantity of Irihil Knights. An Aian high marshall. A Drohov Nith magnate. Of all the targets on the list, only one would be a simple task--Froegen XIV, Empress of the Salsene Grand Fleet. Most of the targets were centered around the Viperius Galaxy in Emenata. When he finally drew his eyes from the list, Hectocapitus was still fixing him with his deep stare.